


The Incompetent Supervillain

by Neverever



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 890fifth, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Memory Alteration, Supervillains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, supervillain. Things are looking better and better but then there is this weirdo at his favorite coffee shop who throws his life out of whack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [890 Fifth Avenue's](890fifth.tumblr.com) round ten prompt, "For the man who has everything."
> 
> This story was inspired by Avengers Assemble episode "The Dark Avengers" (season 2, episode 9). But you don't need to know anything about that episode to understand this story except that the Squadron Supreme is a supervillain analogue of the Justice League.
> 
> Thanks to my beta

All in all, today had been a spectacular day for Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, supervillain. Third-quarter profits were through the roof. The evil minions were actually competent for once. He’d just signed an option on a lair on a volcanic island. (That volcano had been a real steal since volcano lairs were all the rage these days.) And menacing robot tentacles were on a sale at his favorite parts distributor.

Settled in the soft leather seats of the town car, Tony pondered his tentacle robot designs while Happy fought the traffic. It was a perfect early April evening, still a touch chilly. He could use a coffee for the rest of the ride home.

Happy dropped him off in front of one of his favorite coffee shops, the one that had frothy cinnamon- laced drinks and cappuccinos that rivaled the best Italian brews. The baristas always knew what he liked and served it quickly. Picking up his cup of heaven, he turned around and headed out. He nearly tripped over a worn nylon messenger bag sprawled across the floor.

The owner of the bag looked up from his sketchbook at his involuntary yelp. Leaning back in his chair, a ball cap pulled down to shade his face, he gave Tony a studied lookover. Tony, offended by the mislaid bag and the lack of immediate apology, glared at the man. The man didn’t seem like much, in his plaid shirt and blue ball cap with a silver star. 

“What’s the deal, Picasso?” he asked.

The man said nothing, but pushed the bag under the table with his foot. Tony scowled at him. He was a supervillain, he should know how to take out any inconsiderate idiot in a second. He thought better of it and left.

Later, when he was head-deep into the guts of the largest robot he’d built yet, he thought back to that odd encounter at the coffee shop. That messenger bag – he just knew it had been set up to trip him deliberately. He’d have to be careful. The Squadron Supreme had a high bounty on his head.

He fought the Squadron Supreme on a nearly daily basis. They were constantly foiling his plans to rule the city, then the world. If he was to get any peace in the world from their meddling ways, he would have to find a way to defeat them once and for all. His preferred method of destruction involved large complicated robots, but he wasn’t putting all his eggs in one basket with his latest tentacled robots. He was gathering and analyzing data, watching for the perfect opening for the right weapon.

Tony had not set out to be a supervillain. He started off as a garden-variety weapons dealer, but instead of the wild partying life, massive truckloads of money, series of trophy wives, and heart attack at fifty he planned on, he ended up with an arc reactor in his chest and a large metal robot suit. And apparently a desire to destroy the Squadron Supreme, especially Hyperion. Though Darkhawk was beginning to set his teeth on edge with every encounter.

In the morning, Tony had the rare luxury of not having to go into the office. His cover as a playboy dilettante industrialist helped with the supervillain gig, even though the amount of paperwork remained the same. He brewed coffee in his spotless stainless steel kitchen. He disagreed with the general notion that a supervillain had to live in misery. His hideout -- with all the exposed brick and duct work and sleek surfaces -- was the complete designer New York loft, despite the disadvantage of being underground. 

“JARVIS, the news.”

JARVIS played back the day’s highlight reel on the large screen television in the living room. Amused, Tony listened to reports of the misdeeds of his fellow supervillains while he worked on his robots. He dropped everything to listen intently to a news report on a warehouse explosion. The warehouse wasn’t in itself interesting, but who destroyed it was. The reporter described it as the work of the mysterious Captain.

No one had seen him, ever. He was a master of sabotage and widespread mayhem. Even the Squadron Supreme hesitated to take him on.

Tony might be a little in love.

He rubbed his grease-covered hands on his thighs, and considered alterations to the tentacles. It was getting late and caffeine deprivation was setting in. He ransacked his cabinets searching for coffee and, surprisingly, found none. He tapped his fingers on the counter thinking of what to do. He was tempted to send a robot out for a caffeine run. But he couldn’t afford to have Darkhawk capture his grocery-shopping robot and put a tracer on the poor thing. 

He ended up back at his favorite coffee-shop. This time though, he avoided the messenger bag laid out like the trap it was. Picasso was back.

The Annoying Sketchbook Man in the ball cap was studying him again. Tony could confront or ignore. But he was not known for his wisdom. 

“You’re lucky that I didn’t drop my coffee or else you’d owe me one,” Tony stated.

Annoying Man snagged his messenger bag back. “So, you’re the famous Tony Stark.”

“So my license says.” The man didn’t seem to be the average undercover cop or one of the patsies working for the Squadron. “And you are?”

Confusion crossed the man’s face. He might be the most annoying thing in Tony’s perfect life, but Tony had to admit that Annoying Man was the most gorgeous-looking person he’d seen in at least a week. He stammered out, “Steve Rogers.”

Rogers. Seemed familiar. Tony couldn’t place it.

“I’d buy you another coffee if you’d join me,” Steve offered.

The modern supervillain would not be caught dead having coffee with some unknown artist in one of the numerous interchangeable coffee shops that plagued Midtown. Though Tony liked the coffee at this place more than any other. But Steve Rogers intrigued him.

Steve paid for a coffee and they sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Steve took notes in his sketchbook. Tony tried to see what Steve was writing and only got glimpses of elegant handwriting and the occasional doodle. No sign of who Steve really was. Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen Steve before. Pepper took him to many gallery showings, maybe he’d met Steve there.

“You come here often?” Tony opened.

“No.” Steve had that confused look flash over his face. “Yes? Maybe.”

“You were waiting for me. That can’t be good, unless you are the world’s most obvious stalker.” 

“Not stalking. Not really. I saw you here. Last week?” Steve said. He twisted his pencil in his fingers and frowned. “I don’t remember much past last week.”

A chill swept through Tony. He’d accepted coffee from a psycho. He needed to get out and now. 

“Wait. Look over there.” Steve pointed to an innocuous office across the street. Again, not much different from the dozens of stores and offices that lined the streets. A couple of uniformed women walked out of the office. “It’s a Squadron Supreme station.”

Tony peered at the office, wondering if he was going to catch a sign of any of the Squadron members.

Steve shook his head. “No one’s there now.”

“You’re running a surveillance operation on the Squadron? You know what could happen if they found out?”

“It’s no different than what you do.” Steve closed his sketchbook.

“I own and run Stark Industries. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right.”

Tony stood up to go. “I have a meeting. Glad to know you’re not working for the Squadron.” Although he should try to figure out what Steve was hinting at.

Steve grabbed Tony’s wrist. He pushed back the ball cap and Tony saw sadness fill his blue eyes. “You don’t remember me, Tony?” he asked, his voice breaking. 

Tony batted his hand away. He shouldn’t have come to the coffee shop at all, much less listen to weirdo Steve. “No, I don’t.” He turned heel and left, hoping he hadn’t been discovered.

~~~~~

Tony woke up with a niggling itch he couldn’t scratch. 

Cranky and unsettled, he watched the morning news shows screaming reports about a building explosion in Midtown, no doubt the latest work of the mysterious Captain. He recognized the building weirdo Steve pointed out to him as the site of the explosion. No one was hurt, there had been a fire alarm in the building before the attack. 

Tony thought about that building all day. And Steve. He half-listened during a meeting as a development team droned about the advancements they had made in automated home-management systems. After the meeting, he went back to the coffee shop, but Steve was not there. The staff denied seeing him or knowing who he was. It was like Steve had never existed. 

That night, he dreamed of Steve, of lying together naked in a big bed tangled up in white sheets in the early afternoon sunlight. Steve smiled at him, his blond hair sticking out all over, blue eyes sparkling, laughing at something Tony said. Tony put his hand on Steve’s hip, rubbing a circle into the warm skin, Steve leaning in close to whisper in Tony’s ear, his hand sliding across the dip in Tony’s back to pull him close. The dream was so real he could feel Steve’s hot breath on his ear, the brush of his tongue and lips on his cheek. 

The dream felt more real than he ever felt sitting at his desk, listening to JARVIS report on the latest from the Squadron Supreme.

Something was seriously wrong and Tony had to find out what that was.

~~~~~

Tony never gave much thought to the other supervillains operating in this city. They had their thing and he had his. They stayed clear of the Squadron Supreme who policed the city and kept it crime-free. Tony never trusted the Squadron or his colleagues in crime. Hawkeye, Black Widow and Falcon could stick to the petty hacking and burglaries, while Thor menaced the docks and Hulk ran herd over the gangster element. Tony had bigger fish to fry.

Then there was The Captain. He was a recent arrival on the scene. He attacked from the shadows, working so stealthily that no one had ever seen him. Not even the Squadron. Tony knew that because Tony regularly hacked into the Squadron’s computer systems.

Tonight he was rehauling the suit and refreshing the metallic gold and black paint job. News reports of the Squadron’s charity work and disaster relief played on in the background, a nice reminder of what Tony was fighting against. He had no idea why the sheep in the city went along with this nice helpful fakery from the Squadron. They had to be taken down.

His plan was simple. He’d lure them into his explosive trap with a triad of tentacled robots, enough to be dangerous and threatening, not too much to destroy property. And then “blam,” when they least expected it, he’d blow them sky-high.

A sharp stabbing pain behind his eyes disrupted his thoughts. 

Tony shuffled half-asleep into the kitchen where he found Steve in boxers and a t-shirt cooking omelets at the stove. Steve pushed a mug at him. “Good morning, I didn’t think I’d see you up this early.”

“What time is it?” Tony growled. The cup of black coffee tasted hot and perfect as it went down his throat.

“Ten in the morning.” 

“Oh.” He should be at Stark Industries or in the workshop or somewhere.

“Hey, relax, we’ve got the day off,” Steve said. He gave Tony a hip bump on his way to the kitchen island where he put down the plates. “Come and get your breakfast.”

Tony slid onto a bar stool and inspected the omelet, made just the way he liked it. “Thanks, Steve.”

Standing behind Tony, Steve ran his hand through Tony’s wild hair and kissed the top of his head. “Here, for you.” He handed over a card.

Tony picked up the hand-lettered card with the drawing of him and Steve hand in hand. “Happy Birthday,” he read. He opened it and continued, “For the man who has everything …”

A loud clanging alarm brought him to his senses. He’d left the welding torch on too long. “Thanks, J,” Tony said. What the hell was going on? He hallucinated before when he hadn’t slept for a couple of days. Maybe he needed more sleep. Now.

Sleep eluded him. He lay awake all night. All he could think about was that card and Steve’s large hand burning on his shoulder. If he had fallen asleep -- no, he couldn’t have read the card, people can’t read in their sleep, even Tony. 

He couldn’t afford a nervous breakdown on the eve of the most brilliant attack he’d ever planned. But if it was an hallucination, why did he feel cheated? And so alone?


	2. Part Two

Another day, a different coffee shop. Tony put down his money and walked out into the spring sunshine. He caught a glimpse of the Squadron Tower as he headed over to Central Park. A constant reminder of the stranglehold the Squadron held over his city.

Right now though Tony had other problems. He was practically mainlining coffee to stave off his troubling dreams. He was never a great sleeper to begin with, and since he met Steve he dreaded the dreams that came in his few hours of sleep. At first it was Steve, and now other people were showing up. Someone named Clint asked for new arrows and a Natasha drove a flying car. A guy named Sam came into his lab talking about analyzing data. He had no idea who these people were or why they would haunt him.

Today he was doing reconnaissance of the Squadron Supreme. Reports said that they were doing some sort of meet and greet with a citizens’ watch group near the MET. He walked through Central Park mulling his plan. He passed a college kid passing out flyers for the event. He looked up ahead at the row of benches filled with workers eating lunch in the spring sunshine. All normal and usual except for a familiar figure in a ball cap with a sketchbook.

Steve.

Tony sat down next to the man. “I see you go places other than coffee shops,” he said.

Steve replied, “Just go where the action is.” He closed his sketchbook. “What brings you here?”

“Can’t a person enjoy this beautiful day without suspicion?” Somehow the world felt right and perfect sitting here on the bench with his coffee next to Steve. Like he was emerging from the night into the day where everything was clear. 

“Hah,” Steve replied. “It’s only going to be Hyperion today if you were planning something.”

“Hyperion?” Tony replied. “He’s everywhere, so I guessed I wasted my time showing up.” He had collected enough data on Hyperion, it was the other members he needed to analyze.

“Doing what exactly?” Steve asked.

“I’ll have you know that I’m a famous and successful supervillain, one of the best in the business. My robots terrorize the Squadron weekly.”

Steve snorted. “I thought that the point of supervillainy was to either rule the world or steal a ton of money.”

“I do pretty well,” Tony replied. 

“Right.” Amused Steve sipped his coffee.

“I do. I’m a great supervillain. You wait and see -- I have this thing planned for tomorrow. Robots, explosions, the whole nine yards. A big thing.”

“Does your thing involve bank robbery? Or overthrowing the mayor or governor? Holding the courts hostage? Or stealing from the museum?”

“Um, no,” Tony admitted.

“You might want to rethink the supervillain career, Tony,” Steve stated. “For a man who has everything --”

“Wait, what make you think that?” A shiver ran down his spine at the echo of that dream he had. 

“Stop. Look,” Steve said. A child with a balloon ran by shouting to her mother about the Squadron. He pointed to the small crowd rapidly gathering a short distance away. Hyperion and Speed Demon were signing autographs and handing out t-shirts and balloons.

“The whole Squadron was suppose to show up,” Steve pointed out. “Have you noticed that Doctor Spectrum hasn’t been seen in three days?”

“No one notices Doctor Spectrum. Ever.” Tony tried to remember what the Squadron Supreme member even looked like but nothing came to mind except a mind-bendingly ugly costume.

“I think it has to do with what’s going on,” Steve added. 

“Right.”

Steve bent over to rummage through his messenger bag. He handed a large piece of paper to Tony, which Tony unfolded to reveal a large, colored drawing of a group of what appeared to be superheroes. “Um, this team is certainly colorful.” He frowned at the red and gold Iron Man in the forefront. He wouldn’t be caught dead in that armor. The other team members looked like the versions of the other supervillains working in the city, although he couldn’t quite place the unfortunate guy in red, white and blue with the shield. 

Tony refolded the drawing and pushed it back at Steve.

“No, keep it, Tony,” Steve insisted. “I hoped when you saw it you’d remember.”

“Remember what?” 

“Everything.” Steve stood up and threw the bag over his shoulder. He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I hope you remember before it’s too late.”

~~~~~

Tony naturally had JARVIS analyze Steve’s drawing. An unimpressed JARVIS reported back that the paper was lightweight recycled sketchbook paper. He would need more time to analyze the pencils used, but added that they likely were a commonly manufactured item sold under a variety of different brand names. So obviously Tony learned nothing there.

JARVIS helpfully compared the images to the supervillains currently in operation. A one-to-one match to the current crew. Tony drank his coffee and pondered whatever possessed Steve to draw supervillains as a superhero team dripping with the colors of the rainbow. JARVIS did not approve of the red and gold Iron Man.

Tony looked at JARVIS’ files on the other supervillains. Falcon was currently under surveillance for hacking into ATMs across the city, Hawkeye for breaking into jewelry and electronics stores. Black Widow, Thor and the Hulk were suspected of numerous unspecified crimes over the past week. Nothing at all about The Captain. Maybe Steve talked to the others as well.

He yawned loudly. But he wasn’t going to fall asleep, not him, no sirree.

_Steve pulled his cowl off and helped Tony to his feet. “Okay, Tony?” he asked._

_“It looked worse than it was,” he replied. “Just the daily body slam into a skyscraper. I’m used to it by now.” He flexed a red gauntlet. “My new shock absorbers worked perfectly.”_

_Steve leaned forward and kissed Tony’s forehead. “Take it easy. I’m an old, old man. You have another fall like that and I could keel over dead from the heart attack.”_

_“Gah.” Tony batted at Steve’s arm. “Some old man you are. You do remember what you did this morning, twice in fact? Right?”_

_Steve laughed. He pulled his blue cowl back over his head and hefted the shield on his arm. “Let’s wrap this up. Clint is betting on us to arrest the Squadron Supreme in the next hour.”_

_“Who’s betting against us?” Tony asked. “We’ll get this done in a half-hour.”_

Tony snapped awake. He remembered the fight. He remembered going against the Squadron. There was some sort of blinding light.

He fought alongside a team. He was part of the team, a team of awesome supervillains that must have scared the pants off the Squadron. Maybe that's what Steve meant by remembering everything.

The Squadron must have captured them and wiped their memories.

Well, Tony was going to have to do something about that.

~~~~~

He had planned out the robot attack perfectly. He had studied the streets and the Squadron’s patrol patterns. His computer models laid out the placement of his robots for the maximum effect of explosions, disruptions and ruining of the Squadron’s week. He had a Plan A and figured he could improvise if things went pear-shaped. 

The details of how that attack didn’t unfold the way he predicted, but it was close enough. The Squadron took down each robot sooner and more efficiently than he planned. The robots weren’t the main show, though. As Hyperion glided along the wreckage to the cheers of the citizens, the first of Tony’s timed surprises exploded, knocking Hyperion on his arrogant ass.

Pleased, Tony watched from a convenient rooftop, counting down the time for the rest of the bombs to go off. A sudden movement in an alleyway below caught his attention. A man decked out in a black outfit with an odd triangle on his chest in red and white stripes with a black star in the upper left hand corner and holding a matching round shield lurked in the shadows watching the carnage unfold.

The Captain. It had to be. 

Tony barely had time to sort out what The Captain was up to when the second blast went off and he saw Hyperion heading towards him. A hammer flew through the air with Thor attached and the battle was on. The other supervillains poured in from all angles.

Tony did a double-take. The Captain was coordinating the fight. He directed Falcon to sweep in from the left while he pointed out targets to Hawkeye. This seemed familiar. Fighting like the team they must have been before the Squadron got their hands on them. He threw himself into the fight with the Squadron, blasting at everything in his way. He couldn’t let the others have all the fun.

The Captain fought his way over to Tony. He shouted, “Look for Doctor Spectrum.”

“Where?” Tony yelled back. 

“There! He’s got something in his hands he keeps waving at us.”

Darkhawk was yelling at Doctor Spectrum, who was standing and shaking his hand in confusion. Tony aimed a repulsor blast at them. Ribbons of data ran across the HUD, including some sort of anomaly that JARVIS was trying to pick apart. Darkhawk sprang away, only to be knocked down by the Hulk. Spectrum struggled to his feet and waved his hand at Tony, as if that motion was going to do something. Tony shot another repulsor blast and whatever was in Spectrum’s hand dropped to the ground. 

A wave of light flooded the street, the wreckage, and over them, blinding them all momentarily. The light cleared, and a red-and-gold clad Tony stood over an unconscious Doctor Spectrum. He quickly scooped up the reality stone and put it in a containment pocket in the suit. 

A dazed Clint looked around the wreckage. “What the hell just happened? Can anyone explain it? Why do I think I spent the past three days robbing jewelry stores?”

Natasha shuddered. “Maybe it’s better not to look too closely at the past few days.” 

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re home, Clint. That’s all that matters.” He smiled at Tony.

“Yeah. It’s all back to normal,” Tony replied, grateful for Steve’s smile. “I’ve missed you.”

~~~~~

After the cleanup, securing the reality stone in the vault, and a debrief, Tony returned to his room. Steve was already in bed, reading through the debriefing notes. “I have no idea why you’re bothering. None of us want to remember what happened,” he stated.

“I’m trying to find out where the Squadron found the reality stone,” Steve replied. He closed the cover on his tablet and set it on the bedside table. He smiled at Tony like he had won the lottery. Tony could never get enough of that smile and it pained him to think he had forgotten it.

“Does it matter now? Bad guys in jail, and we’ve found yet another of the infinity stones,” Tony climbed into the bed. “What I want to find out is how did you know.” 

Steve looked thoughtful. “Nothing seemed right. I woke up in that costume and ... well, something at the back of my mind nagged at me that what I was seeing wasn’t right. I was missing something, someone in particular.”

“So you went looking for me?” Tony asked. He slipped under the covers as Steve put his arm around his shoulders.

“Yes. I didn’t know at first why I had to find you.” Steve kissed Tony’s hair and squeezed him. “But I found you and all the pieces fell into place.”

Tony snuggled into Steve’s warm side. “I wish --”

“Don’t. It was the reality stone. Thor says that the bearer can change reality according to their whims. Everyone is blaming themselves. But it’s not our fault.”

“But you saw. You knew.”

Steve shrugged. “In time I would have given in, I think. Figuring out was real and what was not was getting harder all the time. Meeting you helped.” He sighed. “Sam wants to run tests to figure out why.”

Chuckling, Tony said, “I guess you’ll make yourself scarce.” He yawned. “You probably fought off the stone because you’re the most grounded guy I know.”

“Thanks.”

“Or maybe you were shocked into reality when you saw your get-up. I do not recommend that you ever wear that uniform again. On pain of death.” Tony was falling asleep in the best way, curled up against his favorite heat source, Steve.

“I don’t think it was that bad.”

Tony shook his head. “It was hideous. However, the black and gold armor -- now that was a great color combo. I should investigate that.”

“I’m not so sure. Red and gold seems more your style.”

“I’m questioning your taste here, Steve. Already you’re dressed up like the flag and you thought that hideous Captain uniform wasn’t half bad and now you don’t dig the black and gold armor. It’s a good thing that you’re not a fashion designer.”

Steve turned the light off and tucked a half-asleep Tony into his arms. “Glad you’re back, Tone. Love you.”

“Glad to be back and love you more,” Tony murmured. “But let’s not do that again.”


End file.
